Off the Beaten Path
by JTWhiteowl
Summary: This is the story of Rue Piscary, a Ranger of Ascalon. Follow her as she makes her journey through the lands, meeting friends and enemies along the way.


Chapter 1

Leaves fall in gracefully swirling, indistinct patterns that mottle the waning sky with splashes of gold, copper, maroon and waxy yellow. Grass with the faintest hints of yellow and brown ripple untouched on the hillsides flecked with vivid pastels of the red irises, sunflowers and forget-me-nots that flourish along the Ascalonian River banks. My soft-soled boots barely make a sound on the cobblestone path leading from Ascalon City as I step through the gates for the first time; ready to make my debut in the world of rangers. Pausing, I jam a finger in the top of my boot, straining to reach an itch buried just millimeters past my range. Leather boots are apparently not conducive to scratching itches, especially not knee-length boots. My armor is not much better; naught but leather trousers and a similar shirt of the same toffee-brown with a set of leather and willow-wood chaps, a matching vest of buckskin, a single shoulder pad and wood and leather gauntlets. I reverently ran my hand across the warming straps, buckles and hides, relishing my very first trappings of my chosen class. Brushing my wheat-red wisps of hair out of my face and back into the single braid caught back with an oak leaf clasp denoting my rank in the Ranger Guild, a smile blooms across my face and I inhale deeply. No more cloistered city for this girl. Mama's Rue-flower is all grown up and ready to take on the world, one monster at a time. "Melandru, goddess of the beasts and rangers, send me a sign! Where should I go to spread your power and might? Show me what I should do!"  
Involuntarily, my hand clenches on my recurve bow, then relaxes. The weight of my weapon, entrusted to me at puberty when it was determined I was a True Ranger, one born with the gift, rather than a Sworn Ranger, one who chooses to become one as a second path in life, reassures me, almost guides me, as I stray off the beaten path, nigh on disappearing into the waves of wild grasses to cross where the river is shallow. Crossing the river here is like crossing a road in the city; you need to look every way but where you're standing. Skale, blue, pink and silver lizard-like beings, infest these waters, preying upon human travelers who, by necessity, must cross this river.  
Gingerly, I step into the river, listening for the soft wuffling grunts of the skale tads that stay in the water and the choppy bellows of the full grown lizards. Wading through, the deepest spot thigh-high and colder than an ice golem's backside, I hear them; skale tads. Two silver blurs on the left and a flash of silver on the right. Their timing is perfect; too shallow to swim effectively, too deep to run. I have to fight.  
Gritting my teeth and drawing a moa-bird feather fletched arrow, I sight the front on on the left, draw back and release. It bellows, making the water ripple violently as the sound vibrates through it. I release another at the one behind it after it finishes off it's comrade by swimming over top of it, scratching and ripping with the sharp talons of it's webbed paws. The arrow flies true, striking the beast in the heart as it rises out of the water to cast on of it's paralyzing spells. The tad sinks below with a gargled roar. I whirl, arrow notched and ready to sing to it's next target. But the water is still; definitely not a tad. They have the attention span of an intelligent two-year-old; fifteen seconds at best, unless thinking of one of the three main survival instincts. If it was a tad, it'd be coming towards me still, intent on the one word that last longer than short-term memory; food.  
Returning the arrow to my quiver, I wade to the silver shimmer and reach down, fingers brushing cold metal. A stronghold box emerges with my hand,lock barely hanging on, sand drifting off it and turning the water cloudy. Splashing the last few feet out of the water, I plop on the ground, legs sprawled out 

and the box between them. I bash my fist repeatedly on the top of the box, the lock slowly shaking loose enough to be wrenched away. Lifting the lid, I examine the contents. A rainbow pheonix feather, a map from Ascalon City to Regent Valley, three tanned hides, a chunk of amber, two monk runes and rolled up pieces of parchment inhabit the box. Not much by way of 'buried treasure,' but more crafting materials than I would have expected to find for a while. Taking out the parchment, I unroll it slowly, a faint tension building as words rapidly scrawl across the page:

_Ranger wanted!  
County of Lakeside needs  
Ranger to see to the needs of the citizens.  
Will house, pay and feed.  
Seek out Devona the Warrior._

A monk's message box; it had to be! But who was this Devona the Warrior? Obviously a True-born and not a Sworn, else she's be titled by her original class. Whoever she was, she must be important, to have control of an entire county, especially one the size of Lakeside. A faint mewling sound catches my ears and after packing the box away into my backpack, I rise and follow the sound carefully. Brilliantly, I stumble over a hole, sprawling out face-first onto the ground. Looking up sharply, I realize the sound is emanating from the hole. Crawling to it, I reach my hand inside the burrow, muttering the incantation for Bespell Animal. A cold, pebbly nose bumps my palm, then sucks on my index finger. Pulling the brindled bundle of fur out of his den, I stroke it's soft fur, smiling. An animal to make my Companion... A wolf pup. "Good morn, wee one. Aren't you a bit too young to be left here alone, without food or protection? Well, my bitty, I shall just have to provide you with what you need myself. I am Rue Piscary, little one, and I shall call you Rowan." I scrath him behind his half-perked ear as his stumpy tail waggles frantically and whisper the binding spell. "You shall grow with me as I grow as a Ranger." Grinning, I nestle him in the large pouch on my belt, softening the innards with the three hides from the box. Leaving the strings undone, I grin, certain I have found my sign, leading me to Lakeside and this warrior woman, Devona.


End file.
